Bewitched By You
by lg.0131
Summary: When Edward leaves Bella in New Moon, he decides to visit an old friend.  Christine is a powerful witch, with whom he has a past, but he hopes she will help him.  Will Christine be able to make Bella and immortal without taking away her soul?
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: All Twilight characters are the sole property of Stephenie Meyer. The use of them in this work is only for entertainment purposes and in no way for monetary gain. Any original characters are my own. Any similarities to real-life people or events are solely coincidence.

Like any author, I am eager for you feedback, so please, review J

Chapter One

His feet tread lightly through the wilderness as he remembered the lush, green forests of Washington, wishing this swamp was cooler. His steps were silent against the heavy kudzu which engrossed the expanse of trees and shrubs before him. The air was thick like warm milk, and all manner of creatures were singing out, creating a soft lullaby that filled the night. The figure in the distance bent down, graciously sweeping up a bundle of bright blue blossoms and placing them lovingly into the wicker basket at her side. Unlike other mortals he had stumbled across in his wandering, he could not read any of her thoughts, but her mere presence called to him so sweetly it was if by song.

Keeping at a safe distance so as not to startle her, he gingerly crept forward through the branches, inhaling the intoxicating scent of her as the gentle, night breeze brought it to his nostrils. The hunger, that intense need, spread through him with the venom, and it tingled from his belly to his fingertips. Several adrift animals had sated his appetite as he had followed the murky waters of the Mississippi south, yet none compared to this perfect specimen before him. He scanned her mind for her thoughts, only to find her voice silent to him. How could this be? Had she learned a way to close her inner monologue?

She had made her way to the edge of the property, and he could see the dim glow of the porch light through the trees. Her skirt swayed gently as she climbed the wide stairs up to the door. It still amazed him how comfortable she was out here in the swamp all alone; she could defend herself against any potential threats.

Suddenly, she turned around, facing the broad clearing in front of the old plantation house. It was as if her honey-colored eyes locked directly on him, though he was certain he was hidden, since he was still perched at the edge of the trees. "Monsieur Cullen, I fear I have tired of this cat and mouse game we are playing," she called out towards him. "Either make your presence known or go away from here." Her voice was very stern and husky, yet each word rolled off her tongue effortlessly. For a moment, he debated turning and leaving her in peace, but the intense aroma of her blood sent waves of hunger through him and reminded him of why he was here.

Deftly, his feet carried him out of the shadows of the forest and into the moonlit yard. The moon cast a glow onto the white columns of the house, and for a moment, she and the scene behind her were very foreboding. He had gotten about halfway up to the porch when he suddenly stopped. His senses were spinning at the smell of her, and he tried to come closer, only to find he was unable to take a step forward. A laugh escaped her, and it was gentle music to his ears. "I am no fool, Edward," she smiled. "You forget I know you for what you are."

Her soft brown eyes betrayed not an ounce of fear, and her brow was raised as if in amusement. With a hand on her hip, she sat the basket down at her feet and stepped down off the porch. Slowly, she walked nearer to him, and as she got closer, he could feel the air around her become palpably thick, as if charged with electricity. "Christine, how are you?" His voice was barely a whisper.

"Why are you here?" she responded boldly.

"Not happy to see an old friend?," he replied with a strained laugh. She was much more delicate looking at this proximity. Her nose was like a small rose bud in the center of her face, curving up just slightly at the tip. Large almond-shaped eyes sat atop her round cheeks, which had the glow of afternoons in the sunshine. He suddenly wanted to feel that warm skin against his own cold face, to wrap his hands in the wavy tendrils of her dark hair.

"I am certain that would be most detrimental to me," she smiled, her full lips curling up and her gaze softening. She could read his mind? "Yes," she answered the unspoken question, "But I can show you how to guard those thoughts which you let so easily slip out."

"Your talents have matured," he stated nervously.

"Come, we have much to discuss, Edward." She took his hand in hers, all the warmth of her palm radiating through his icy grip.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: All Twilight characters are the sole property of Stephenie Meyer. The use of them in this work is only for entertainment purposes and in no way for monetary gain. Any original characters are my own. Any similarities to real-life people or events are solely coincidence.

Like any author, I am eager for you feedback, so please, review J

Chapter Two

The study was lit only by a soft Tiffany lamp at the corner of the massive desk. He was slouched comfortably in one of the matching dark leather chairs arranged before the fireplace, his amber eyes focused intently on her. "It has been a long time, Edward," she stated placidly, taking a sip from her glass of wine. "Tell me, what is it that brings you here?" Her voice had lost most of the French accent she had so many years ago, yet it was still melodic in every pronunciation. He remained silent. "Yes, I understand a great deal about the pains love may bring upon the soul."

He knew she must know everything since she could read his thoughts. "I will stop," she smiled, "But only if you speak. I do hate to be the only one in a conversation."

"Yes," he sighed, "I apologize, I do not mean to be rude. I would just rather not discuss her just yet." Even without saying her name, the mention of Bella sent a jolt of pain through his heart. Heart? He doubted he had one at this point. And that was the problem, was it not-his lack of a heart? If only he could have found her before all of this, perhaps life would have been completely different. If only he were not this horrific monster. If only his soul were not damned for eternity.

"If only," Christine repeated despondently. She stared into the cold, dark fireplace, her gaze completely detached. He watched, realizing the sadness that engulfed her. Suddenly, her thoughts were very clear to him. She was remembering the last time they had seen each other.

_His hand stroked a loose hair back out of her face. She stared up at him, and her light brown eyes were full of love. They misted over, but she would not cry, she was much too strong, and they both knew he had to go. Their fingers touched intimately, betraying all the words they dared not say. _

She cut the flood of memories off quickly, and once again her internal voice was silent to him.

"I have missed you," he said softly, his brow furrowing as he filled with emotion.

"You may make yourself at home, Edward, I am exhausted. Good night." She was up and out of the room before he had a chance to reply. He heard the light patter of her feet as she climbed up the stairs, and he sighed sadly. Walking over to one of the immense book shelves, he searched the titles. He pulled out an old copy of _Great Expectations _in an attempt to silence the thoughts filling his mind.

Morning brought a change of players in the orchestra along the grounds. The lazy hum of the locusts had been replaced by the jovial chirping of birds nestled in the magnolia trees, and somewhere in the distance, he heard the sound of a tractor sputtering to life. Closing the novel, he stood and stretched his lean body, his muscles tingling deliciously. He walked over to the window, the warmth of the sunlight kissing his skin brilliantly. The rich aroma of her blood suddenly filled his nostrils, and he turned to find her standing silently in the doorway.

"I had forgotten how beautiful you truly are," she smiled. She wore a pair of faded blue jean shorts and an tank top which revealed much of her golden skin. He could hardly believe the grown woman who stood before him, the one who had replaced the soft teenager of so long ago. "It has only been seventy years or so, Edward, I am not old yet," she laughed, reading his thoughts. Throwing him a playful wink, she turned on her heel and walked out of the room.

Following her out of the library, he quickly caught up to her as she entered the kitchen. The room was much more modern than the rest of the house with tall, stainless steel appliances nestled in dark, cherry cabinets. White marble countertops matched the ivory floor, and he knew the style to be completely hers. "I must apologize for yesterday," she began, pouring a cup of steaming coffee.

"There is no need," he interjected, "I thank you for taking me in on such short notice."

"Of course. So, Edward, what _does _bring you here to my home?" she asked, sitting down at the small table in the corner. He pulled out a chair across from her and sat down.

"I had no where else to go," he stated flatly.

She took a sip from her mug and then idly ran her fingertip across the rim. "There were a million other places you could go."

"You can read my thoughts," he replied with a sly smile, his eyes meeting hers, "You know why I am here."

"Yes, but I would like you to come forth with it."

"I need you to make Bella immortal."


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: All Twilight characters are the sole property of Stephenie Meyer. The use of them in this work is only for entertainment purposes and in no way for monetary gain. Any original characters are my own. Any similarities to real-life people or events are solely coincidence.

Like any author, I am eager for you feedback, so please, review J

Chapter Three

Her gaze was steady, her honey eyes fixed steadily on his. "Immortal?" she repeated.

"Yes," he answered slowly, "I know you are more knowledgeable than you let on, Christine."

"But it is not immortality," she paused, looking for the words, "More like an extended mortality."

She turned away and took another sip from her coffee. A few moments passed, and she remained silent, only staring out of the window behind him. He took the opportunity to study her. A few antique rings adorned her long fingers, yet she wore no other jewelry that he could see. Her wrists were dainty and her mannerisms were light, but she still seemed grounded in her stance at all times. He had managed to love some amazing women over the years! Yet, none had completely engulfed him like Bella. His throat stiffened, and he attempted to clear it.

"Perhaps, Edward," she interjected. "But there is no way to know if it would work, and this life is not for the feint of heart."

"She is everything but feint." His amber eyes met hers, and she recognized the pain he suffered being away from Bella. She knew it because she had felt that same pain so many years ago when he had left her. Taking the last sip of her coffee, she rose and walked over to the pot to pour another. "Does she know you've come here to ask this of me?"

"No."

"How can you know if she would even consider it? Or will you not be giving her the choice?"

"Of course I will give her the choice," he hissed, his brow furrowing. "You speak as though I did not do the same for you." She laughed melodically.

"Yes, to become like you and have you forever, or to remain a mortal to be abandoned for fear of some Italian vampire Mafioso. What a choice!" She did not raise her voice, but the tone of hers matched his. There were not many times he feared a mere mortal, but he did not know the extent of her power, nor if that were truly how she saw his decision of so many decades ago. "Yes, that is how I see it, Edward."

He did not stop her as she walked out of the kitchen. Sighing in frustration, he ran a hand through his fluffy hair and decided to take a stroll around the grounds. The morning was coming to an end as the sun peaked in the sky, and his skin glimmered as he walked in its warmth. How could he make her understand? The Volturi had a no-mercy policy; either they would take her incredible power and force her into submission or they would have ended her life for knowing of their existence.

Bella was in just as much danger, though with Alice's vision of her as an immortal, he hoped they would accept his postponement and allow her to exist as a quasi-mortal for a lifetime or so. Unsure of what the future would hold, he prayed silently that somehow it would all work out.

Her scent rose over the hill and crested gently towards his nostrils, and he turned to face her as she neared. It still baffled him to be completely shut out of her mind, as it was with Bella, but it had not always been so with Christine. She must have learned a way to shield her mind. And how could she read his mind so easily? She had not been able to do it before. "I have decided to help you, my dear Edward," she sighed as she shielded her eyes from the sun.

"I'm glad to hear it," he smiled, and it felt like a weight had been lifted from his chest. Finally, he would be able to have Bella by his side and still preserve her soul. He could finally return to her and fill the hole which had developed deep in his heart.

"You give me too much credit," she shook her head, "And this will not be an easy process, there is much we must prepare before we leave."

"Leave?" his head cocked to the side.

"I must be with her to perform the rite," she answered with a laugh.

"Yes, but I thought we might bring her here."

"The magic will be much stronger if done in a place she is tied to, and naturally, her home is the ideal location." The thought of Christine being in Forks suddenly made Edward very uncomfortable. Would her presence bring scrutiny again from the Volturi? What would the Werewolves think? Would the witch violate the shaky treaty between them and the Cullens? "Werewolves?" she asked incredulously.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: All Twilight characters are the sole property of Stephenie Meyer. The use of them in this work is only for entertainment purposes and in no way for monetary gain. Any original characters are my own. Any similarities to real-life people or events are solely coincidence.

Like any author, I am eager for you feedback, so please, review J

Chapter Four

Once again in the cozy study, he had explained the entire story to Christine. Bella, the first few agonizing weeks they had spent getting to know each other. He knew she could read his mind clearly, and he wondered if she could see Bella in his mind. If she could feel the pulling force that led him through her window at night, drawing him constantly into her presence.

"Yes," she smiled distantly. He continued into the story of the Cullens in Forks, and how they had been able to develop a life there. As the sun began to set along the tops of the trees, he recounted the treaty between the Werewolves and the Cullens and how Bella kept a _dog _as a friend. She laughed lightly. "You dislike this."

"Extremely," he gave her a crooked smile, "But she insists, and I can deny her nothing." A small smile crept to his lips as he thought of her reluctance to ever ask anything of him, and his own eagerness to give her whatever she pleased. In so many ways they were so alike, and yet so different.

"You must allow me a few days to prepare for our trip."

"Of course," he replied "May I be of any help?"

"There will be something I will need from you, yes, but I will let you know when I need it."

For the next few days, Edward tried to remain composed even though he was petrified of returning to Forks. What if Bella refused this? What if she had moved on? What if she were with _him_? His nostrils flared as the venom moistened his throat, if she were, he was unsure how he would behave.

Attempting to give Christine as much time and freedom as she needed to finish her preparations, Edward had taken to long wanderings in the neighboring swamps. When he thirst, he fed on the creatures lurking in the murky waters, their eyes glazing over in surprise when a larger predator found them. He saw Christine very little in the next few days, though he occasionally looked in on her, only to find her deep in meditation. She ate nothing and barely moved from her position, he would have thought her dead. The blood pulsing steadily through her veins let no room for question, she was alive. Though he knew where her body-with it's rich thick blood-was, he knew nothing of her psyche, in that barrier she had not wavered. A part of him was totally infatuated with what the witch was doing, but his constant thoughts of Bella drowned out any curiosities.

By day three, he was nearly at his wit's end. He sat in one of the leather chairs in the study, a collection of Frost's poems open in his lap. He had always been one of Bella's favorite poets, and Edward longed for the sound of her soft voice. Had he not been a vampire, he would not have heard Christine's light steps in the hallway or the turn of the antique doorknob as she stepped inside. With a long, exhausted sigh, she slid into the companion chair at his right.

"You've finished?" he asked.

"Yes," she replied, turning her head to face him. Her almond shaped eyes looked tired. "We may leave whenever you wish."

"What-" he was unsure if he wanted to ask the question, or if he wanted to know the answers.

Reading his thoughts, she replied, "There was an array of preparations to be made, tools and ingredients to gather. I spent most of the last days calling upon the spirit world to assist me in this endeavor. Sometimes, it takes many attempts to locate the stronger spirits and to convince them to help me."

"You did not have to bargain your soul?" he teased her with a smile.

"Oh, Edward," she laughed "You know as well as I that I gave my soul away a long time ago."


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: All Twilight characters are the sole property of Stephenie Meyer. The use of them in this work is only for entertainment purposes and in no way for monetary gain. Any original characters are my own. Any similarities to real-life people or events are solely coincidence.

Like any author, I am eager for you feedback, so please, review J

Chapter Five

The plane ride was very uneventful, though they did receive a quizzical look from the TSA agent when she inspected Christine's bag. He would have attempted to provide some sort of explanation for the array of bones, statues, and candles crammed into the Louis Vuitton. Christine, however, felt no need for such formalities, and they made their way to the gate without challenge. She slept for most of the flight, her warm body curled against his. The scent of lavender and vanilla drifted up from her wavy locks, and he turned more toward her, pulling her warmth closer to him. His thoughts drifted back through the years as he began to reminisce about their time spent together.

The first few years after his transformation had been extremely difficult, and even though he had returned to them later, Edward had run from the rag-tag vampire family Carlisle had created. An unquenchable thirst enflamed every part of his body, saturating every thought and feeling. He had wandered, devouring guilty souls, as he made his way further and further into oblivion. His brow furrowed at the thought of how monstrous he had been in his quest for human blood. Only when he was feeding did he feel a bit of peace those first few months, when the rich blood would sing as it weaved through his veins. Suddenly, the cabin of the plane felt very small and thick with the aroma of so many humans in such close quarters. Christine stirred beside him but did not wake.

He remembered the first time they had met. Much like their reunion, he had stumbled upon her out in the swamps hear her home. His hunger and disregard for a human facade had led him south-Louisiana. He smelled her about a quarter mile from where she picked oleander blossoms, and her she hummed a tune softly while she contemplated what all she had left to do before bed. Thinking this very odd, he had tracked her until her fragile human form appeared between the low-hanging branches. Looking directly at where he stood, she stiffened and dropped her basket at her feet. Her blood pumped ferociously now, coloring her cheeks as her adrenaline spiked. She knew he was there, knew death was coming for her. Though he had only fed on the guilty, he could not repress the sudden need he felt for her.

He ran toward her at full speed, his red eyes glowing dangerously with his hunger. In less than a second he was upon her, his arms outstretched to reach for her tender neck. The jolt hit him so hard it threw him backwards, but he managed to land on his feet deftly. With a growl, he launched again, only to be thrown back a second time by some invisible force. "Get away from me before I kill you!" she hissed before taking off at a full run. A guttural laugh escaped his throat and he thought about letting her go, but the bloodlust was too much for him. He pursued her to the edge of the swamp, but every time he was repelled, as if by a giant magnet of the same polarity.

She was terrified as her feet scrambled up the front porch's wide steps. He was chomping at the bits to get to her, to drain every ounce of her aromatic blood from her curvy body. He would crush her against him, locked in the embrace of death as she fought against him. The venom swelled in his throat as he raced across the yard, the steps were so close, he was almost there-blackness.

His body twitched as he regained consciousness. He was on his back in the moist grass of the yard, his body completely immobile. Trying to pull himself up, he was dismayed to find himself bound tightly, though no ropes or chains held him. "You only make this more interesting!" he screeched, his throat dry with his thirst. He couldn't see her anymore, but suddenly he felt himself being engulfed in fire. His screams echoed across the yard as he fought of the invisible flames. "Stop!" he demanded between clenched teeth. "Please, stop! I will leave you in peace if you desist." The pain vanished as quickly as it had come.

"Who are you?" she demanded. He still could not lift himself up, but her voice trailed down off the porch.

"Edward Masen," he growled in frustration, "Please, take away these invisible shackles!"

"I will when I am satisfied you will not try to kill me," the girl replied evenly. How unimaginable this all was to him! A mortal woman, afraid but strong, holding this monster captive as if it were nothing. How was she doing this?

"It is clear you wield powers of which I know nothing," he answered civilly, "What are you?"

She laughed dryly. Suddenly, his whole body lifted to a standing position, though his muscles had not moved an inch. He struggled vainly with his invisible trappings, only to remain locked in position. The girl was closer now, and her blood was driving him insane at this proximity. His eyes rolled back as he tried to shake off the desire to snap her beautiful neck and empty it.

"Are you a vampire?" she inquired bluntly. Her large eyes were colored like amber and wide with awe as she studied him.

"Yes," he replied, his shoulders slumping in surrender.

"If I let you go, will you leave me in peace?" one of her eyebrows arched in suspicion.

"I will." He crumpled to the ground as she released him. Picking himself up, he rose to his full 6'2 stature. She had retreated to the safety of the porch, watching him warily as he straightened his clothes. "I do apologize for attempting to kill you. I do not typically go for innocent bystanders, I just happened upon you at a very vulnerable moment, and your scent is somewhat intoxicating."

"Perhaps it is best for you to go now," she stated flatly, "Do not return here, Edward Masen, or I will dispose of you." He nodded, flashing her another apologetic smile before turning and tearing off back into the swamps. His mind was full of questions about this girl. Who was she? How could she have fended off a vampire? Why had she let him go? Though he promised no to return, he did not promise not to keep close over the next few weeks, trying to find the answers to those questions.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: All Twilight characters are the sole property of Stephenie Meyer. The use of them in this work is only for entertainment purposes and in no way for monetary gain. Any original characters are my own. Any similarities to real-life people or events are solely coincidence.

Like any author, I am eager for you feedback, so please, review J

Chapter Seven

"A witch, huh? Interesting," Emmett smiled coyly as he nodded his head. Christine attempted to ignore the death glare Rosalie shot her way. The Cullens were spread across the living room, Emmett and Jasper engulfed the couch with Rose perched on its arm. Alice and Esme were preparing something for their guest to eat, and Carlisle was sitting across from him and Christine, completely enraptured by her story. She had recounted to Carlisle her story with him, of how she had been the one to convince him to return to Carlisle in his fledgling years.

"For that, I am most grateful," Carlisle said softly, "Pardon my curiosity, but when you say you are a witch, what exactly does that entail?"

She blushed slightly at the attention of the vampires, knowing every ear was piqued with interest. He suddenly realized he could hear her thoughts, she must have opened her mind up to him. _This is a bit overwhelming, and I wanted some support. _

"Well," she cleared her throat, "I see spirits, and I can communicate with them and sometimes I can coerce them to do my biding." She smiled sheepishly. "I can control energies as well as many physical elements."

"You look barely twenty three or four, yet you knew my dear son so long ago."

"My mother, Suzanne, was a very powerful sorceress," she ran a hand through her long locks as she tried to think of how to explain everything. "She used her abilities to her advantage, often blurring the line between right and wrong."

"I imagine it would be easy to do with such gifts," Carlisle suggested with a smile. She eased a little with his understanding. Edward realized it was very hard for her to retell this tale of so long ago, the last person she had told was him over seventy years ago.

"So many do follow that path," she sighed, "But her true passion was questing for immortality. We traveled every country, every region, looking for truth behind the myths. That's when I learned of vampires for the first time," her breath caught slightly, and he scanned her mind to find out she was still very disturbed being in such close proximity to so many predators.

"If this is too much," Carlisle volunteered.

"No," she replied with a smile, "Sometimes I have so many trains of thought I lose myself," she lied. "But during one of our trips to Central America, we went on an expedition to the heart of the jungle, where Suzanne had learned of a powerful _Brujo_. According to legend, the man had lived nearly eight hundred years, and still remained in his home, practicing his rituals. When we finally reached that tiny village, we were turned away. Only after an impressive display of her power, Suzanne convinced them to grant us entrance into their lands.

"We spent many months there, my mother clinging to the Brujo, satisfying his every whim and need. I spent many weeks alone, and then after a while, the children begrudgingly accepted me into their play circle. Suzanne begged the Brujo every day to teach her his secrets, to show her his magic, and every time he refused her and told her to go prepare his dinner. Much to my amazement, she did so without any hesitation-it is amazing how eager people are to please when they want something. Eventually, though, he decided to reveal his secrets to her.

"After weeks of preparation on our part, and much meditation on his, we set out for the tribe's nearby hidden pyramid. He explained to us that his magic was much more effective here, where the bones of his Mayan ancestors rested. Their spirits resided here, he said, and they would aid us in our endeavors. Truthfully, the pyramid scared the hell out of me. I could see the shadows of the spirits, and they crowded the dark hallways, the pressure of them against my six year-old body was nearly unbearable, I though I would be crushed. Somehow the Brujo, even with one of his eyes made of glass, found our path and led us out into a large room directly in the middle of the structure. Several sarcophagi were placed neatly around the room, gold and jewels glittering brightly from their sides and tops.

"The walls were covered in rich glyphs and paintings, such a vast array of reds and blues and greens. Under different circumstances, I would have been enthralled by it all, but I as it was, I was terrified. I could feel the lust for this power emanating from Suzanne too clearly, and the crazed expression in her eyes frightened me. Opening our packs, Suzanne instructed me to line the candles up in a wide circle around the altar in the center of the room. Shaking, I did as I was told, ignoring the screeches and moans from the spirits around us. One of the stronger ones actually managed to grasp my hand strongly and nearly pulled my feet out from under me. Hissing a curse at it, I returned to my work, finally finishing by lighting them all.

"The Brujo had laid out several tools before him on the altar: a chalice, a dagger, and two ancient masks.

"_The spirits see you clearly Suzanne," _announced the Brujo, his voice deep and booming, radiating off of every angle in the room, _"They know better than I to whom they wish to bestow this blessing. I offer my life to you, so that you may live past your mortal years and into the centuries." _

Suzanne helped the Brujo kneel before the altar, her chocolate eyes ablaze in rapture. He reached out for one of the masks and put it to his face. As he tied the leather thong on the back of it, I could see its face more clearly-it was the face of death. My mother grabbed the other off the altar and affixed it against her own face, the mask of life.

"The Brujo instructed her to collect his blood in the chalice once he had finished the incantation, and to mix her own blood with it to complete the rite. _"Ancestors of long ago, aid me in my sacrifice," _the Brujo spoke from behind his mask, _"I give forth my blood and my life to this woman, Suzanne. She is a very powerful conjurer, and she will serve you well with this gift. Release the immortality from me, as I bequeath it to her." _At this point, I was next to Suzanne, trying to remain quiet but shaking with fear as the spirits around us whirled and screeched. Suddenly, the Brujo pushed the dagger deep into his belly, his eyes fluttering wildly. Without a moments hesitation, Suzanne pushed the chalice beneath him, gathering the blood that was pouring violently from his abdomen. When he slumped forward with a moan, she merely pushed his body over and out of the way.

"She turned the blade toward herself, sliding it across her forearm. I took a step backward as she mixed her crimson blood in with the Brujo's and put the golden cup to her lips. _"Sangre inocente!" _screamed one of the spirits from above. They had gathered above the altar, swirling in a dark cloud. _"Sangre inocente, sangre inocente!" _The spirits began to chant the phrase angrily, and I felt like all the air was suddenly being leeched from the room.

"_Is that what you want?" _Suzanne hissed wickedly, _"Fine, you will have it." _

"Before I knew what was happening, my mother snatched me up from her side, my feet dangling as she gripped my arm tightly. Her eyes were glazed over and wild, completely empty and black. A terrible hiss rang out from her as she tore open my dress and slashed viciously at my arms and wrists. The pain was overwhelming as she shook the blood from me into the chalice, as if I were nothing more than a rag doll. Having what she wanted from me, she tossed me carelessly onto the floor, and I crumpled in a heap at the bottom of the altar. She stood atop the altar now, screaming incantations and spells. The spirit cloud whirled around her, blowing back the candles and catching her skirts. Suddenly, her entire body stiffened and her head snapped back as the entire room fell silent. Her body rose from the altar, the tips of her toes dangling a few inches from the stone.

"_Malvada_," hissed the spirits, "_Malvada, malvada, malvada._" Their chant became enraged as my blood continued to spill out onto the cold earthen floor. I would die, but my mother would finally have everything she had searched so long and hard for. Perhaps, I had helped her in some small way. Perhaps, she would finally be pleased with me because I had helped her achieve her immortality. Her screams brought me slightly out of my daze, and I watched as she began to stretch all of her limbs away from her body. But they did not stop, and to my horror, it was clear the spirits were pulling at her arms and legs. She fought them for a few moments before they finally won. I clenched my eyes tightly as one of her legs tore away from her body, followed by the other. Blood pumped viciously from the sockets as her arms followed suit.

"I do not remember to well what happened next, as I had lost so much blood I could barely remain conscious. Apparently, the spirits had tempted my mother's desire for longevity, and she had failed miserably. Only innocent blood could coerce them into bestowing such a gift upon the owner, and hers was anything but. As I laid there, dying, wondering if anyone would ever even find my body there, I suddenly felt tingling all across my arms. I expected them to rip away from my body, like my mother's had, but I looked down to see the wounds beginning to close. I was still weak and half-dead from blood loss, but I attempted to raise myself to my feet, only to fail. I knew what I had to do before I could think it, and petrified, I raised the chalice to my lips. The blood was warm and thick, and I gagged as it slid down my throat. I remained in the temple for two days, drinking the rainwater that trickled in and collected in the chalice I had positioned beneath the leak. Finally, I was able to make my way far enough down into the jungle before collapsing in a heap in the foliage. A few hours passed before one of the villagers found me, but they took me back and nursed me back to health.

"That was in the 1820's, when I was six years-old, and ever since then, I have aged at about the rate of one year to every ten human years."

The entire room was silent, until the sound of cascading water broke the spell. "Oh no!" Esme quickly pushed the tap on the faucet into the off position. "I fear I have ruined your food," she said apologetically. She had drained the noodles and was rinsing them off when she had become so engrossed in Christine's story she had forgotten all about it.

"Do not fret, Esme," Christine smiled sadly, though Edward knew her sadness had nothing to do with Esme's mistake. "I fear I have lost my appetite anyhow. May I help you clean up?" She volunteered as she rose from her chair. Carlisle's eyes met his, and his blonde eyebrows arched in amazement.


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: All Twilight characters are the sole property of Stephenie Meyer. The use of them in this work is only for entertainment purposes and in no way for monetary gain. Any original characters are my own. Any similarities to real-life people or events are solely coincidence.

Like any author, I am eager for you feedback, so please, review J

Chapter Seven

"A witch, huh? Interesting," Emmett smiled coyly as he nodded his head. Christine attempted to ignore the death glare Rosalie shot her way. The Cullens were spread across the living room, Emmett and Jasper engulfed the couch with Rose perched on its arm. Alice and Esme were preparing something for their guest to eat, and Carlisle was sitting across from him and Christine, completely enraptured by her story. She had recounted to Carlisle her story with him, of how she had been the one to convince him to return to Carlisle in his fledgling years.

"For that, I am most grateful," Carlisle said softly, "Pardon my curiosity, but when you say you are a witch, what exactly does that entail?"

She blushed slightly at the attention of the vampires, knowing every ear was piqued with interest. He suddenly realized he could hear her thoughts, she must have opened her mind up to him. _This is a bit overwhelming, and I wanted some support. _

"Well," she cleared her throat, "I see spirits, and I can communicate with them and sometimes I can coerce them to do my biding." She smiled sheepishly. "I can control energies as well as many physical elements."

"You look barely twenty three or four, yet you knew my dear son so long ago."

"My mother, Suzanne, was a very powerful sorceress," she ran a hand through her long locks as she tried to think of how to explain everything. "She used her abilities to her advantage, often blurring the line between right and wrong."

"I imagine it would be easy to do with such gifts," Carlisle suggested with a smile. She eased a little with his understanding. Edward realized it was very hard for her to retell this tale of so long ago, the last person she had told was him over seventy years ago.

"So many do follow that path," she sighed, "But her true passion was questing for immortality. We traveled every country, every region, looking for truth behind the myths. That's when I learned of vampires for the first time," her breath caught slightly, and he scanned her mind to find out she was still very disturbed being in such close proximity to so many predators.

"If this is too much," Carlisle volunteered.

"No," she replied with a smile, "Sometimes I have so many trains of thought I lose myself," she lied. "But during one of our trips to Central America, we went on an expedition to the heart of the jungle, where Suzanne had learned of a powerful _Brujo_. According to legend, the man had lived nearly eight hundred years, and still remained in his home, practicing his rituals. When we finally reached that tiny village, we were turned away. Only after an impressive display of her power, Suzanne convinced them to grant us entrance into their lands.

"We spent many months there, my mother clinging to the Brujo, satisfying his every whim and need. I spent many weeks alone, and then after a while, the children begrudgingly accepted me into their play circle. Suzanne begged the Brujo every day to teach her his secrets, to show her his magic, and every time he refused her and told her to go prepare his dinner. Much to my amazement, she did so without any hesitation-it is amazing how eager people are to please when they want something. Eventually, though, he decided to reveal his secrets to her.

"After weeks of preparation on our part, and much meditation on his, we set out for the tribe's nearby hidden pyramid. He explained to us that his magic was much more effective here, where the bones of his Mayan ancestors rested. Their spirits resided here, he said, and they would aid us in our endeavors. Truthfully, the pyramid scared the hell out of me. I could see the shadows of the spirits, and they crowded the dark hallways, the pressure of them against my six year-old body was nearly unbearable, I though I would be crushed. Somehow the Brujo, even with one of his eyes made of glass, found our path and led us out into a large room directly in the middle of the structure. Several sarcophagi were placed neatly around the room, gold and jewels glittering brightly from their sides and tops.

"The walls were covered in rich glyphs and paintings, such a vast array of reds and blues and greens. Under different circumstances, I would have been enthralled by it all, but I as it was, I was terrified. I could feel the lust for this power emanating from Suzanne too clearly, and the crazed expression in her eyes frightened me. Opening our packs, Suzanne instructed me to line the candles up in a wide circle around the altar in the center of the room. Shaking, I did as I was told, ignoring the screeches and moans from the spirits around us. One of the stronger ones actually managed to grasp my hand strongly and nearly pulled my feet out from under me. Hissing a curse at it, I returned to my work, finally finishing by lighting them all.

"The Brujo had laid out several tools before him on the altar: a chalice, a dagger, and two ancient masks.

"_The spirits see you clearly Suzanne," _announced the Brujo, his voice deep and booming, radiating off of every angle in the room, _"They know better than I to whom they wish to bestow this blessing. I offer my life to you, so that you may live past your mortal years and into the centuries." _

Suzanne helped the Brujo kneel before the altar, her chocolate eyes ablaze in rapture. He reached out for one of the masks and put it to his face. As he tied the leather thong on the back of it, I could see its face more clearly-it was the face of death. My mother grabbed the other off the altar and affixed it against her own face, the mask of life.

"The Brujo instructed her to collect his blood in the chalice once he had finished the incantation, and to mix her own blood with it to complete the rite. _"Ancestors of long ago, aid me in my sacrifice," _the Brujo spoke from behind his mask, _"I give forth my blood and my life to this woman, Suzanne. She is a very powerful conjurer, and she will serve you well with this gift. Release the immortality from me, as I bequeath it to her." _At this point, I was next to Suzanne, trying to remain quiet but shaking with fear as the spirits around us whirled and screeched. Suddenly, the Brujo pushed the dagger deep into his belly, his eyes fluttering wildly. Without a moments hesitation, Suzanne pushed the chalice beneath him, gathering the blood that was pouring violently from his abdomen. When he slumped forward with a moan, she merely pushed his body over and out of the way.

"She turned the blade toward herself, sliding it across her forearm. I took a step backward as she mixed her crimson blood in with the Brujo's and put the golden cup to her lips. _"Sangre inocente!" _screamed one of the spirits from above. They had gathered above the altar, swirling in a dark cloud. _"Sangre inocente, sangre inocente!" _The spirits began to chant the phrase angrily, and I felt like all the air was suddenly being leeched from the room.

"_Is that what you want?" _Suzanne hissed wickedly, _"Fine, you will have it." _

"Before I knew what was happening, my mother snatched me up from her side, my feet dangling as she gripped my arm tightly. Her eyes were glazed over and wild, completely empty and black. A terrible hiss rang out from her as she tore open my dress and slashed viciously at my arms and wrists. The pain was overwhelming as she shook the blood from me into the chalice, as if I were nothing more than a rag doll. Having what she wanted from me, she tossed me carelessly onto the floor, and I crumpled in a heap at the bottom of the altar. She stood atop the altar now, screaming incantations and spells. The spirit cloud whirled around her, blowing back the candles and catching her skirts. Suddenly, her entire body stiffened and her head snapped back as the entire room fell silent. Her body rose from the altar, the tips of her toes dangling a few inches from the stone.

"_Malvada_," hissed the spirits, "_Malvada, malvada, malvada._" Their chant became enraged as my blood continued to spill out onto the cold earthen floor. I would die, but my mother would finally have everything she had searched so long and hard for. Perhaps, I had helped her in some small way. Perhaps, she would finally be pleased with me because I had helped her achieve her immortality. Her screams brought me slightly out of my daze, and I watched as she began to stretch all of her limbs away from her body. But they did not stop, and to my horror, it was clear the spirits were pulling at her arms and legs. She fought them for a few moments before they finally won. I clenched my eyes tightly as one of her legs tore away from her body, followed by the other. Blood pumped viciously from the sockets as her arms followed suit.

"I do not remember to well what happened next, as I had lost so much blood I could barely remain conscious. Apparently, the spirits had tempted my mother's desire for longevity, and she had failed miserably. Only innocent blood could coerce them into bestowing such a gift upon the owner, and hers was anything but. As I laid there, dying, wondering if anyone would ever even find my body there, I suddenly felt tingling all across my arms. I expected them to rip away from my body, like my mother's had, but I looked down to see the wounds beginning to close. I was still weak and half-dead from blood loss, but I attempted to raise myself to my feet, only to fail. I knew what I had to do before I could think it, and petrified, I raised the chalice to my lips. The blood was warm and thick, and I gagged as it slid down my throat. I remained in the temple for two days, drinking the rainwater that trickled in and collected in the chalice I had positioned beneath the leak. Finally, I was able to make my way far enough down into the jungle before collapsing in a heap in the foliage. A few hours passed before one of the villagers found me, but they took me back and nursed me back to health.

"That was in the 1820's, when I was six years-old, and ever since then, I have aged at about the rate of one year to every ten human years."

The entire room was silent, until the sound of cascading water broke the spell. "Oh no!" Esme quickly pushed the tap on the faucet into the off position. "I fear I have ruined your food," she said apologetically. She had drained the noodles and was rinsing them off when she had become so engrossed in Christine's story she had forgotten all about it.

"Do not fret, Esme," Christine smiled sadly, though Edward knew her sadness had nothing to do with Esme's mistake. "I fear I have lost my appetite anyhow. May I help you clean up?" She volunteered as she rose from her chair. Carlisle's eyes met his, and his blonde eyebrows arched in amazement.


End file.
